


Off the Court

by AttackOnMelody



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Basketball, Basketball, Levi/Eren Yeager-centric, M/M, No Spoilers, i will add more pairings soon, you must wait
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AttackOnMelody/pseuds/AttackOnMelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren Jaeger plays for 104th High's varsity basketball team, the strongest team in the district. At least, it seems that way until they play Trost High, with its star player deemed "Humanity's Strongest." Eren has himself under control on the court, but how will he fare when he has to deal with his life, and a certain black-haired senior, off the court?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off the Court

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! Thank you so much for reading my first ereri fic and my first fic on ao3! This chapter is mainly to introduce the characters and have nerds being nerds, and it's also rather short. I promise that there will be a plot soon :) Please give me feedback (plot, grammar, anything), it is very much appreciated!

Fucking Christ, I'm exhausted.

I'm panting and sweat’s dripping from every inch of my body.

I don't know if I'll last much longer.

_Damn Mikasa and her extreme basketball conditioning._

Connie has long since died and is lying in the middle of the gym floor, the only movement he makes being the heavy rising and falling of his chest (though I'm surprised that he can even do that).

Mikasa, my adopted sister and varsity basketball coach, has somehow convinced herself that if we run until we physically cannot, we’ll be as fast as her. We're not and never will be, of course, but that sure doesn't stop her from trying.

“You call yourselves basketball players!” she shouts at us. “Move your asses! We’re not even halfway done and you’re lagging! I’m talking to you, Connie!”

Connie groans in reply, and slowly starts to pick himself up off the floor.

“We’ve only got a couple of days until the game with Trost High School,” she reminds us, “and I swear, if we lose, you won’t have legs by the end of next practice. Got it?”

“Got it!” the team shouts.

Trost High is our school’s, 104th High’s, rival, and honestly, the only other team in the league that can compare to ours. Even though we are in A-league, the league with the best teams in the area, we won our first two games by more than 50 points. As a varsity team of all sophomores, most of the teams doubted we’d actually be able to play. After some of them watched us, however, they aren't so smug.

I don't really care about most of our league games, mainly because the teams suck, but I'm really excited to play against Trost High. People say winning is the best part of competitions, but to be honest, it's getting pretty boring. I prefer to have to put up a fight rather than crush the other players like Titans, our school mascot.

We are supposed to play Trost five times this season, and for some reason, I just know these games are going to be interesting. It's been a while since I've had a real challenge. Well, besides keeping the required grades to play. That shit is pretty damn hard when you seem to have an affinity for getting into fights. To clarify, those are technically not my fault because someone else usually starts it, but for some reason, I'm always the one who ends up in the office.

Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh, right. Basketball.

Going back to the team, it consists of: Eren Jaeger, me; Armin Arlert, my best friend; Connie Springer, a squirrel; Reiner Brawn, the muscular box; Bertoldt Fubar, the giraffe; Marco Bodht, freckles; and Jean Kirschtein, the fucking horseface.

Armin, a guard, is decently short for boy's varsity basketball, measuring five foot four. However, he makes up for it with his strategic plays and tactical thinking. There's this one story that involves Armin, a dude’s head, and skid marks, but that’s a story for another time.

Connie, a point guard, is the shortest one, him being five foot two. He's super fidgety and doesn't always make great choices when it comes to passing or shooting, but he can move faster than anyone on the court—hence the sobriquet “squirrel”: small and stupid, but quick.

Reiner, a post, is the second tallest, measuring six foot one, but he is 209 pounds of pure muscle. I must say, using him as a wall has come in handy quite a few times.

Bertoldt, a center, is our tallest guy, coming in at six foot three and a half, and so far, I haven't seen anyone taller than him. Even though he’s a giant, he gets intimidated by the other teams fairly easily, and becomes more hesitant.

Marco, a high post, is decently tall, him being five foot ten. He's a marvelous offensive player, but he's too nice and consequently, gets beat up a lot. Sometimes the other players take pity on the poor guy, but most of time, he ends up with an abnormal number of bruises and scratches, even for a basketball player.

Asshole, also referred to as Jean, is another high post, measuring five foot nine. He’s good at what he does, but probably gets his ass kicked for all his snide comments to the other teams. So basically, Jean’s a horse-faced shit who’s main goal in life is to get into either Mikasa’s and/or Marco’s pants. Yeah, that’s pretty accurate.

Lastly, there’s me: Eren. I’m a guard, like Armin, five foot seven, and honestly, I just really like to work hard and play. I’m not amazing, but when I play somebody skilled, hey, I’m going to give it my all. Go hard or go home, right?

Actually, that’s probably the only reason that I’m able to get through these damn running drills. Jeez, Mikasa sure knows how to kill—whether that’s supposed to be taken in the literal sense or not, I am not sure myself.

After what seems like years, she finally calls us into a group. “Bring it in!” she shouts.

Once we’ve all gathered around her—a variety of us sitting, standing, or on our faces—she begins, “Okay, boys. I’ve gotten some information on the players at Trost, and it looks like we’re in for a tough game. They’ve got two guys over six feet and 200 pounds, and one’s even taller than Bert.”

We all look to Bert, who looks absolutely terrified and is probably going to pass out from anxiety. Reiner pats him on the back sympathetically. The scene is almost comical, but at the moment, we have more important issues to think about.

Two guys that huge are going to be pretty difficult to play with, but it just makes me feel even more excited. They’re abnormally giant, but so what? Bring. It. On.

Mikasa clears her throat. “Apparently those two aren’t even the primary worry.” _This_  gets my attention.

“Holy shit,” Connie interjects. “What can be worse than the two giants from _Jack and the Beanstalk_?”

“There’s only one giant in _Jack and the Beanstalk_ ,” Armin corrects.

“Damnit, you know what I mean."

“Well,” Mikasa starts, looking a bit skeptical herself. “They’ve got this guy they call ‘Humanity’s Strongest’. But I don’t know how such a midget—“

“Midget?” Jean raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s only five foot three. I just don’t get what could be so amazing about this guy . . .”

Five foot three? Damn, this guy must be as good as he’s made out to be since he’s only got an inch on Connie. When you’re about Connie’s height, it’s not exactly what one might call practical.

“Tch. This guy can’t be all that great,” Jean rolls his eyes. “I can’t wait ’til I can say I kicked 'Humanity’s Strongest’s ass.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Marco chimes in. “But we still shouldn’t let our guard down if there’s all this hype about him.”

“Whatever,” I grin. “Whether he’s ‘Humanity’s Strongest’ or not, we’ve got to win this game.”

“Leave it to you, Jaeger, to spout idiotic, try-hard bullshit,” Jean sneers.

“ _Fuck you, horseface_."

Jean just fucking laughs. God, what did I do to deserve him?

“Enough, idiots,” Mikasa sighs. “Anyway, that’s it for today. Think about the impending game tomorrow at practice. Perhaps you’ll be more motivated for hard work, _Connie_.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters.

“Alright,” Mikasa says. “Let’s get a break. Eren?”

I grin, and we all put our hands in the center of our group circle. I shout, “‘Titans' on three! One, two, three!”

_“Titans!”_

 

Walking with Mikasa and Armin in the dry November air, we discuss the unfair homework load given to us by our asshole teacher, Ms. Brzenska. I swear she enjoys our pain. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. Probably a mix of both.

Getting bored of the topic, I decide to change it. “So Mikasa, what are you planning to do about Humanity’s Shortest and the giants?”

She furrows her eyebrows, thinking for a while before answering, “I’m not completely sure yet. We’ll definitely have Bert and Reiner defending the two huge guys, and I’m guessing that Humanity’s Strongest will be a point guard with his height. If he’s fast, we can stick Connie on him.”

“If he’s smart you better give him to Armin. No offense to Connie or anything, but . . . you know what I mean,” I suggest.

Armin’s eyes widen slightly, and he chuckles nervously, “Hopefully he’s just all physical strength and not mental. I’m not sure I’m good enough to guard somebody with his kind of a title.”

“C’mon, Armin. You’re awesome! You stole almost all of the passes to that #32 Wagner guy last week,” I remind him. Sometimes it’s unbelievable how unconfident Armin can be, especially since quick thinking is extremely helpful in basketball.

“Thanks, Eren,” he starts with a small smile, and it turns into a grin. “I’m seriously glad that we’re going to play another strong team. I’d love more of a challenge, and also, I’m starting to feel bad for all of the teams we utterly demolish.”

I let out a laugh. “Too true, dude.”

“Hey, Armin,” Mikasa asks, as we do pretty much every day. “Pizza for dinner with us?”

“Of course,” he replies. “I’m starving.”

“How can you not be after all of that running Mikasa puts us through?” I chuckle and lightly jab her side with my elbow.

Mikasa jabs me back, much harder, and I don't know why I had expected to get away with it.“Maybe if you guys weren’t so slow, it wouldn’t be an issue,” she rolls her eyes, attempting to sound annoyed, but she can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face.

 

“I’ll order the pizza,” I call as I walk into the kitchen. I hear affirmative sounds from the living room.

My house is pretty average-sized, with three bedrooms, a dining room, a kitchen, and a living room. Our backyard even has a basketball hoop for when Mikasa forces me to practice at home, or when I just want to blow off steam.

Thanks to our dad—a famous doctor that pays our bills and owns the house, but can only be seen in it once every two years—Mikasa and I are able to lead very average lives. Sometimes I wish he would check in with us more, but then again, I don’t particularly love the man after he left my dying mother in the hospital and never came to see her again.

My mom was diagnosed with stomach cancer and died when I was eight, and even now, I really do miss her. The majority of pictures we have around the house contain her—people sometimes assume she’s still here with as many frames as we keep out. She played basketball all four years of high school and college, and I feel obligated to follow in her footsteps, I guess.

I know, super stereotypical-teenage-chick-flick-sounding, right? No matter how many times I remind myself that I’m acting like a teenage drama queen, I can’t convince myself to stop. But I guess I’m okay with that.

I call the pizza place and try not to make my laughter too obvious as the girl with an inhumanly high-pitched takes my order. I almost fall over laughing after I hang up the phone with Minnie Mouse.

We end up pairing our pizza with shitty Wii games and later on, much to Mikasa’s relief, a movie.

“Oh my god, guys,” she chuckles and shakes her head as Armin puts _Coach Carter_ into the DVD player. “I cannot comprehend how you can play _Super Smash Bros._ for two hours straight.”

“Unlike you, most people don’t automatically understand every single control for every character ever on his or her first try,” I stuck my tongue out at her. “Story mode is actually pretty difficult.”

“I literally finished this entire game in three hours when I was like nine,” she smirks.

“I’m sorry. What was that? I forgot that I don’t care because I am already aware that my gaming skills are deathly mediocre.”

“But are they really even mediocre? I could have sworn that I beat you four times in a row in the multiplayer battles,” Armin laughs.

“Thanks for the support, Armin,” I sigh sarcastically.

“Anytime.”


End file.
